


Four Numbers and Two Names

by FandomsAreMyFuel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Background MorMor, Bad reasoning and plot because I was sleep-deprived, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Headcanons and stuff that I write into fics, I'm bad at writing Irene, Irene will probably never die... she's just the Sherlock version of Loki in my head., Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel
Summary: "Sherlock." The female's voice traveled to John's ears and he stepped closer, his eyes seeing the scene unfold."Ms. Adler," Sherlock said."It's 'Ms. Adler' now? What happened to 'Irene'?""I'm impressed," He uttered, "You come this far for a single cellphone." Sherlock chuckled, a strained sound to John's ears as he's heard it far too many times. "The phone has been destroyed," Sherlock stated, knowing full well for the reason she was here. "Your 'protection' is gone, Ms. Adler."
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 19





	Four Numbers and Two Names

It was long after everyone settled down, 221B was inhabited by the consulting detective and his best friend and once again flatmate, the ex-army doctor. It was like the first night they met all over again, but it was without the icy barrier that was once wrapped around the thin walls of the flat. The cameras that focused on the windows caught a warm glow of the streetlights.

Though, of course, life didn't always settle down for the two flatmates.

"I'm heading out to get some groceries, I think you can handle not tearing up the flat for at the most twenty minutes?" John held up his hand up, which had caught the attention of Sherlock.

"Hardly a challenge," Slipped out Sherlock's mouth as he rolled his eyes.

John paused, his mouth thinning to a line, he huffed, "I'll agree to it when I don't see blood or a knife on the floor when I get back." John said whilst slipping his shoes on. He surveyed the area before heading out the door, then when he got to the sidewalk. He burst into light chuckles as he reached Tesco.

Perhaps the reason Sherlock was like this was due to the growing relationship with his brother. The two got closer after stopping Moriarty's right-hand-man, Rosemund Moran, who was supposed to assassinate him after Sherlock's death; instead, Moran had acted as Mary Morstan, an interested party in affections to damage Sherlock in that way.

John picked out the strawberry jam sitting right in the center of the shelf, not too deep inside, not too to the side. "Old habits die hard." He murmured half-heartedly, letting the selected carton of milk drop into the blue basket. He gazed at the biscuits. "Sherlock does like the other kind..." He muttered at his favorite kind of biscuit with a somber look. Putting both kinds in the basket, he made his way to the self-checkout machine and let the basket fall in the pile of the others when he loaded everything into the bags.

"Don't." He nearly growled at the machine after everything was bagged and he held a credit card in his fingers.

During the light hike back home, he heard the familiar ring of his phone, guessing that it was his flatmate, he fished the phone from his pockets, ' _Jim Moriarty and Irene Adler are both alive. -SH_ ' was typed out in ordinary letters.

He fumbled with his bags. He simply typed in his thoughts, ' _What? After all this time?_ ' being them.

No response.

He bolted.

The door was a tad bit ajar to John's dismay, his eyes widened, jaw tightened as he trekked closer. He heard a distinct voice, one of a bold, confident, smooth siren's song.

"Sherlock." The female's voice traveled to John's ears and he stepped closer, his eyes seeing the scene unfold. The Woman stood by the doorway and the younger Holmes stood closer to the inside, chin tilted high.

"Ms. Adler," Sherlock said, his eyes not coming off of Irene's own.

"It's 'Ms. Adler' now? What happened to 'Irene'?" She said, her right hand reaching for her left shoulder. John swore he grabbed his gun when he stepped outside.

"I'm impressed," He uttered, "You come this far for a single cellphone." Sherlock chuckled, a strained sound to John's ears as he's heard it far too many times. "The phone has been destroyed," Sherlock stated, knowing full well for the reason she was here. "Your 'protection' is gone, Ms. Adler."

"No, you didn't." She cut in, shaking his head, going, 'uh-uh-uh, darling' with her hands on her hips. "You know better than to lie..." She placed her right hand in front of herself, outstretched as if to catch a falling ball.

"Even if he did, the password would be changed." John finally said, he stepped into the flat, the Tesco bags in his hands, his shoulders scrunched like a feral wolf's, eyes attentive; a wolf threatening a genius with Tesco bags in his hand.

"But by whom? Doctor Watson?" Irene purred, making it so it sounds like a cat in a tree, hissing to being threatened by the neighbour's dog.

"I can't say." John deadpanned, tossing the bags straight into the fridge then heading upstairs.

"A gun won't work." She called after him.

"I believe it does," Sherlock said, "If your motive is to not wound up dead by the end of this encounter." She then held up a gun. Not just a gun, but John's gun. She tossed it onto John's worn, red chair with the Union Jack pillow.

"I need the phone."

No beat of hesitation. "You are in no place to place demands," Sherlock has announced, he then pulled out the phone from under the skull on the mantlepiece. His eyes narrowed at her, the movement telling her that there was a reason she could get it from him so easily, "You have one chance."

The room's curtains grew long, the sun faded away as they moved on a bit further in time. "One chance?" John asked, his eyebrows furrowing, "Don't tell me..." John let his tongue get caught between his lips, silencing the room once more.

"Yes... we're letting Ms. Adler play her own game, a... round two per se."

"But there's nothing on there." John blurted out.

"No, there's the information Moriarty is looking for." Sherlock drawled out the first syllable in a breathy voice. John

"Which is?" John asked.

"Sebastian Moran's location," Sherlock turned to John after a long-awaited silence, "His boyfriend." John's head snapped to Irene. "His last resort, in which Moran, who is also in Rosemund's plans, would smuggle him."

"And you put his information on Irene's phone," John looked at Sherlock from the corners of his eyes.

"Because Moriarty cares too much for Sebastian, how his name could ruin everything he's worked for, even after I destroyed his empire,"

John recalled how Sherlock told him about his days dismantling the realm of Moriarty's people, he had one last resort that he had gone to, which he simply named 'Moran' and John assumed was gone, after the two brothers had taken down Rosemund Moran, who was his closest assassin. Instead, the last piece had been a family he had, a boyfriend named Sebastian Moran. Colonel Sebastian Moran.

"Just like how four numbers ruined her's. She gets one chance or it's all destroyed." Sherlock's eyes didn't leave the phone in his hands, awaited to be snatched.

John nodded. "But _why_ would Moriarty send Irene to get the phone?"

"His final plan is to settle down as Richard Brooks and marry Colonel Moran."

"Right... but that doesn't seem like a thing he would do." John murmured as Sherlock continued.

"Then, he would build his empire up again, all whilst giving more puzzles by using the eldest Moran and finally taking out me." He tilted his head, "Which has physical evidence, which she will destroy, in favour of gaining protection by Moriarty." Sherlock finished, the room only had the movement of Sherlock's eyes leaving the phone and locking with Irene's

John paused. " _After_... she gets the information to him." Sherlock nodded.

"Yes. Which builds up his empire and Irene shall be behind the stone walls, safe and sound by her standards."

"But... I heard you _saved_ her." Irene smirked.

"Then considered me playing round three," Sherlock responded, "If she wins this round, I lose for the third time," Sherlock paused, gazing into John's eyes, "I believed I had won when she had lost, but instead, I lost too."

"And then The Fall.. at Bart's..." John's voice trailed off, like mud on a sole of a shoe, bound to shift to meager spots and dry to dirt. "And... how is this round three?"

"Because, John, just like Ms. Adler and her supporter, the key to unlocking the phone is my everything, and simply because I care for people, I've lost." Sherlock's voice stayed booming and low, not wavering nor unfazed in any way.

"Irene, you believed that on that night, I thought you had fallen for me... The Virgin, you laughed when I suggested it, yet, I unlocked the phone anyway," Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed at his given nickname.

Irene's eyes were still on the prize. "I believe this is you telling me that you are just like me, Mr. Holmes?"

"No," Sherlock said, firmly. "Because the four numbers on the phone are not that simple."

"Making your password as the man you care about, are we, Mr. Holmes?" John recalled the day, she looked over her phone and said, 'Well, I am... look at us both,' with a sly smirk that mirrored Sherlock's. "I'd say that is exactly what I did."

John blinked once. _'I am _ _ _ _ Locked?'_

He blinked again. _Irene Adler only cares about one man, one man that stands out from everyone else... a man who mirrors her intelligence. Only there were three different genius that John knew had at least stood by her once, but it was obvious..._

_She said, 'Look at us both.' She only cared for one man... Sherlock Holmes._

_Sherlock._

_Lock_.

 _Sherlock_.

_'I am _ _ _ _ Locked.'_

_'I am S-H-E-R Locked.'_

_Four numbers that would decide her fate; she wouldn't be so eager, would she? Four numbers that determined her future from that moment her phone reached Sherlock's lithe fingers._

_Oh..._

_Oh._

_Oh my god._

John stared at the phone in Sherlock's hand.

_pqrs = S = 7_

_ghi = H = 4_

_def = E = 3_

_pqrs = R = 7_

"Seven... four... three... seven," John muttered just as Sherlock handed Irene the phone. 'One chance,' Sherlock had said as John let go of the breath he held on for so long, just like the phone in his flatmate's hand.

"Thank you, Doctor Watson." Irene smiled before she placed her thumb on the phone, smirking. _She was always smirking... at him... for ruining Sherlock's cold walls, by melting them like soft chocolate._

_No._

_Sherlock wouldn't let her just..._

_Was it..._

_No._

_jkl = J = 5_

_mno = O = 6_

_ghi = H = 4_

_mno = N = 6_

_J-O-H-N equal 5646... and that's what Irene Adler put in. 'Thank you, Doctor Watson.'_

_That was it._

_5645._

_The numbers that would ruin Sherlock's life..._

"It's not just your life... it's also mine." John sighed.

"No..." Irene whispered.

_Sherlock smirked._

_He always smirked._

_He also winked._

_He winked..._

_He winked on the day... we met..._

"Now, Doctor Watson," Sherlock said, suddenly holding the phone, Irene stood where she started off. She didn't move. She simply stood where she had started off. "Please do the honours." Sherlock's smirk did not falter.

He slid the phone into John's palm.

_29 January 2010._

The day John Watson met Sherlock Holmes.

John put up the phone and put in 2901.

The 29th of January.

The room was silent as Sherlock took the phone and pocketed it. John did not know if it was deleting the information even after he had put in the correct password. He did not know what it meant for Irene and even what it meant for Moriarty.

Somehow, he knew that this wasn't the end.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Holmes."

"It's not just John that is important, but the day I met him."

"You're getting soft." Irene turned to the window, where she met the eyes of John Watson, who turned to Sherlock.

"And you're running out of luck," Sherlock said. "Goodbye, Ms. Adler."

"This isn't the end." She said as if to retaliate for her misfortunes.

It wasn't the end for any of them, specifically, the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

"No," Sherlock shook, dark curls bouncing, "It's never the final problem."


End file.
